Layered Saints
by Roaddog 469
Summary: Continuation of my Twins/OFC saga, see Author's Note inside for more details...
1. Chapter 1

****AUTHOR'S NOTE****Ok, my fellow rabid fangirls, here is the next installment of my Twins/OFC saga. You don't really have to read the others to know what's going on here (basically it's my OFC and she's dating Connor and Murphy (the lucky bitch)), but please if you dig this one, feel free to read the others, as well. The other stories, in order are: One Saint or Another, Two Saints are Better than One, Triply Saintly Sated, and Saints of my Heart…Dammit.

This fic is kind of long for the actual movie time period it takes place in (between the afternoon after the boys first run into Il Duce up until the night after Rocco is killed), but I did finally bow to review pressure and hit y'all with a threesome. Good times. Could, maybe, kind of be twincest if you squint your eyes and tilt your head just the right way, but I think it's more like, two guys who are very comfy with each other.

We're coming up on the end of my saga. Not gonna go on beyond the timelines of the movies, but I'm kind of committed to it now, so even if I get no response review-wise, I'll post the last two fics (or possibly last three, I haven't decided yet). Of course that's not to say that you shouldn't review anyway. Please, show the love. Lol!

Anyway, damn this is a really long author's note. I hope you enjoy and if you do, please review! If you don't, meh, well you can bite me really. No gray area coming into all of this, it's smut, if it's not your thing, don't read it. Anyway, take care, have fun, and I'll see y'all next time.

****END OF AUTHOR'S NOTE****

It had been a day or two since Rocco and the boys had last left my apartment, and I was taking advantage of the break by stocking up. Three hungry and often wounded men in my apartment was continually draining all my cabinets (kitchen, liquor, and medicine).

Two nights ago they hit a titty bar and took out Poppa Joe's right hand in a peep show booth along with two other scumfucks who ran the neighborhood. Word was out that Rocco was taking out Yakavetta's people so Rocco's place was no longer safe and the boys place wasn't in the condition it used to be (and let's face it the place wasn't exactly the Ritz before) so they had decided to camp out at my place when they could.

I didn't know where they stayed when they weren't with me. I didn't want to know and they didn't want me to know so it worked out well for everybody. They were sure to call me and let me know they were all right, but otherwise I only saw them when they showed up at my door, hungry and needing rebandaging.

The patching up was no problem but I am, ahem, "culinarily challenged" (I believe is the polite term for "unable to cook a fucking thing") so my fridge, freezer and cabinets became a veritable wonderland of sandwich fixings, frozen pizzas, and junk food. Not to mention a steady stream of takeout burgers, pizza, Chinese food and Thai when I could get the boys to try it. Living alone for as long as I have I know all the best restaurants…anything to keep me from having to cook.

The beer and the cigarettes were really what was killing me.

I smiled and sighed as I stepped off the elevator and headed down the hall to my apartment, looking down at the keys in my hand as I went. It was the only reason I saw the blood trail leading to my front door.

Oh holy Jesus, I thought as my heart dropped and my stomach clenched.

I fumbled my keys and nearly dropped my grocery bags as I practically leaped to the door. My fingers shaking, I had a helluva time trying to get the damn key in the hole and had a sudden surge of sympathy for virgin boys trying to have sex for the first time. Eventually I got the key in, twisted, and pushed into the apartment…and found the boys and Rocco sliding weapons back into pants and bags, sitting at my table smoking and sipping the last of the beer from my fridge.

My internal organs returned to their original non-freaked positions and I pulled my key from the deadbolt as they greeted me.

"Boys," I acknowledged as they got up and made their way towards me. Connor limping noticeably and Murphy slightly drooping one arm. Rocco seemed more or less alright but his hand was pretty heavily bandaged. They each took a grocery bag and hauled them into the kitchen as I put my purse and keys down. Following them back into the cooking nook I caught the distinct smell of blood… and cooked meat?

"Everybody okay?" I asked, pulling supplies out of the bags as I noticed the spots of blood on the floor… and on my table… and on the counter. "More or less?"

"Aye," Connor said his hand ghosting across the small of my back as he returned to his seat.

"More or less," Murphy agreed, depositing his bag on the counter and hugging me. I returned the squeeze and felt him tense as my hand rested on the patch of bandage.

"Sorry," I said, softly as he pulled back.

"It's alright," he said, his lips brushing my temple briefly before he returned to his place at my table, straddling the back of the chair between Rocco and Connor.

I started putting away groceries and noticed the iron sitting on the counter with bloody handprints on the handle. Turning it I found the charred skin and cooked blood still clinging to the smooth metal surface. "Aw, Christ, boys. Are you sure you're all okay?"

"Well, Rocco lost his finger."

I dropped the bag of Doritos I held in my hand. "You what?"

"Oh yeah," he said raising his bandaged left hand and waggled four fingers at me, his bright eyes shining.

"Holy fuck," I exclaimed, crossing to him and cradling his hand in mine. "The whole finger?"

"Well, enough of it," he said, looking down at his hand in mine.

"Doesn't it-? Do you-?" I kept trailing off, I looked to the twins for support but their faces were neutral, obviously absorbed in something else. Looking back at Roc, "Do you need me to look at it?"

"Nah," he said, sipping his beer with his free hand. "We, whatdyacallit, cauterized it and wrapped it pretty good. If it starts to look bad or hurt worse I'll let you know."

"Ok," I agreed reluctantly as I turned my gaze on the twins.

"And you two?"

"All twenty fingers," Murphy replied around his cigarette as he and Connor jazz-handsed at me.

I rolled my eyes and dug into the bag that I knew had my first aid supplies in it and grabbed a bottle of alcohol, poured it over my hands and moved to Murphy's shoulder. I peeled back the bandage as carefully as I could. It looked like the original bullet wound hadn't been life-threatening although I'm sure it had bled like a bitch. It looked like it had been deep enough to stick my finger in it at least up to my first knuckle. "Christ in heaven, Murphy," I sighed, probing lightly with one finger. "Tell me you cleaned this out before you toasted it."

"Aye, girl. We mopped it up beforehand."

"I could have stitched this," I sighed, eyeing the angry red of the burn surrounding the hole.

"This was faster," he said glancing over his shoulder at me. "Besides, I don't like needles."

I arched an eyebrow at him, shifting my eyes to his inked forearms, back and hand. "That's different," he said, turning away. I scratched lightly at the short hairs at the base of this neck and watched the goosebumps come up.

"And you?" I said moving to Connor. "You're gimpy again."

"Clean shot, lass," he said laying open the split leg of his jeans revealing a clean cotton pad secured with several loops of gauze.

The patch covered the bullet hole itself, but the telltale burned triangle with little holes at its edges showed that Connor had gotten the Kenmore treatment, too. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. "I need a cigarette," I sighed and three packs were thrust at me. I laughed a little and pulled one from the closest pack which happened to be Connor's and accepted a light from Murphy, before sitting down behind him, putting my arms around his waist and resting my head on his back. I only had three chairs so I usually had to double up, there was no way I was gonna sit on Connor with that hole in his thigh and sitting behind Murph was comfy. Like sitting bitch on a motorcycle… only on a chair.

"He'll be on to us soon," Murphy said his voice soft, reverberating through his chest.

Turning my head I could see Connor just over Murphy's shoulder. He was nodding. "Aye."

"Then we need to do something," Rocco said, as I heard him light up.

Connor looked up from the table and pinned Rocco with a cold blue gaze. "We're not," a pause and a quick glance at me before he continued, "doing what you're suggesting. So unless you have an alternative then shut it."

Rocco fell silent and Murphy's hand dropped to mine and gently massaged my fingers until they loosened around his stomach. I hadn't even really realized that I had tensed until I made a conscious effort to relax and felt my shoulders loosen. I had seen the three of them entrenched in roll-around-on-the-floor, knockdown, dragouts before, but for Connor to be that pissed, the tone of his voice and the lines of his body told that much, and still seated and rational, gave me pause.

Murphy took my hand in his and laid it flat on his chest, the steady thump of his heart against my palm mellowed me even further and I closed my eyes.

They had always been careful enough to leave me a shred of deniability. What they were doing was never discussed. I never asked what had caused the various scrapes and cuts and now bullet holes that I had been asked to patch.

But I wasn't an idiot.

Rocco was missing a finger and my boys both had holes in them. The underlying, barely there scent of blood and gunpowder that had always surrounded my boyfriends had, now almost overpowered their own unique scents. And I missed it.

But it wasn't…bad. Just different.

Kind of like the boys.

Since the night the Russian mobsters were killed at the Copley there had been a shift in my boys. Not guilt or regret or anything quite so maudlin. Just a change. A direction? A sense of purpose. Most times they were still themselves. Crazy ass guys. Laughing and cussing and smoking. Feeling me up when they got a chance, but there was an underlying current of… not quite tension, but drive, maybe. And on occasion, it swam to the surface and their bodies went slightly rigid, their expressions serious.

Like now, for instance.

"Then maybe it's time," Rocco began and I felt Murphy's body tense. "You know," Rocco said.

I looked up and Murphy and Connor both were staring at Rocco like he had just said the Pope was Jewish.

"That wouldn't stop him anyway," Murphy said, putting his hand over my own.

Connor's eyes cut to mine then slid away. "Aye," he agreed with his twin, "but…" he trailed off.

"We'll talk about it," Murphy said, squeezing my fingers, "later."

Well, hell, I thought, that sounded serious. I cleared my throat. "You boys need me to take off for a bit?"

"Nah, lass," Connor said, his hand touching my back and then sliding away.

I met his eyes over Murphy's shoulder and held them. I nodded, then rubbed a hand up and down Murphy's thigh before planting a kiss on his shoulderblade as I stood. "Ok, then," I said returning to my kitchen and continued putting stuff away.


	2. Chapter 2

My apartment was no where close to, oh, what's the word? Large, yeah, that's it. In fact, sometimes it seemed too cramped for me by myself, so with the boys and Rocco all staying there it was a little close. Close enough that if Rocco hadn't already known that I was sleeping with them both, being no idiot himself, he would have figured it out within the first couple of hours.

So he didn't take it personally when we all went to bed in my room and he was left alone in my living room on my less than comfy couch with a couple of blankets and a pillow. Knowing that there was only one bathroom and that it was two feet from my bed, he also stopped all liquid intake at about two in the afternoon. I felt bad, but the boys seemed to think it was funny. I rolled my eyes thinking about it as I spat toothpaste into my bathroom sink. Slurping water out of my hands I rinsed my mouth as I rinsed my toothbrush, put it away and spat again.

Taking my hair down from the ponytail, I turned off the light and padded into my bedroom.

Murphy was already laying, with his back to the wall, smoking and talking to Connor who sat beside the bed, an ashtray between them. The conversation, in Gaelic, I think, paused as I walked into the room, and they turned to look at me. I wiped self-consciously at my mouth, worried I still looked like a rabid dog from the toothpaste as they resumed their discussion.

I took a step towards the bed as Murphy lifted the ashtray, flipped down the bedspread and started smoothing the sheets, absentmindedly, still staring intently at Connor as he spoke in what I think had become Italian after the pause.

I stopped short of standing between them and slid my sleeping pants off of my hips, before dropping into the space Murphy had prepared so I could peel off my socks. I got the first one off, before Connor grabbed my other foot and peeled the other off, rubbing the ball of my feet with his thumbs. I inhaled deeply, curling my toes. A soft, vaguely smutty sound rolled out of my throat, as I slid my foot out of his fingers and laid out on my back beside Murphy, tucking my feet under the covers. Murphy flipped the covers over me, covering me to the waist, then laid the ashtray on my stomach. I should have been offended being used as the equivalent of a park bench, but I wasn't. The boys were still immersed in a conversation in French and both of them leaning over me to flick ashes almost made me feel part of it.

Blanketed by their voices I must have nodded off for a few minutes, because the next thing I knew, Murphy's hand was resting lightly on my hip, shaking me slightly, breathing in my ear, "Come on, girl."

"Hm?" I said, blinking, heavily.

"Move over, lass," Connor said from the floor as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Mm-hmm," I mumbled rolling closer to Murphy as Connor climbed in beside me and I curled instinctively around him, my leg over his, my head on his shoulder, my hand in his on his chest. A brief moment of panic at how well this fit was quickly snuffed out as Murphy's chest fitted to my back, his hand over my hip and the other arm under my neck searching for my fingers with his own. My spare hand fitted into his and squeezed and he squeezed back. A small contented sigh escaped my lips and I melted into them both, as my eyes fluttered shut.

"Have ye figured it out, yet, lass?" Connor asked, suddenly.

My eyes shot open and I stared at the tattoo on his neck, "What exactly?" I asked, stupidly. I had an idea of what he was asking but I wasn't gonna jump in.

"About what we've been doin', girl?" Murphy chimed in from behind me.

I swallowed and I felt my body tense up between them and they pressed closer to me, their heat willing me to relax. "You two take off that first night and the next morning there's nine dead mobsters. Three dead at the Lakeview the next morning after you stayed the night at Roc's. Then three more at that peep show palace the next night. I haven't watched the news tonight but you three come back today full of holes and missing appendages, smelling like blood and gunpowder, I'm sure I'll see a big body count in the morning." I shifted my head up and met his eyes looking down at me. "I'm not an idiot, Connor."

"I know that, lass," he said, using his index finger of our shared hand to brush a lock of my hair out of my face.

"We know that," Murphy added and I arched my hips against his groin.

"The thing is," Connor began.

"That fed that cleared us of that thing with the Russians?" Murphy's breath whispered against my skin.

"He's working this new thing, too," Connor added.

"And he'll figure it out soon," I said. "That was the whole thing with Roc earlier."

"Aye," Connor agreed, turning his head to the ceiling.

I paused, pressing my lips together. I had to know. "So what were you gonna talk about later?" I asked half turning my head to meet Murph's eyes. "What is it time for?"

I felt Connor shift beside me and I knew he was looking at Murphy. Murph's eyes shifted up to meet his, another wordless conversation, then returned his gaze to me, met my eyes and held them. "We had planned to head to New York if things got bad here."

My stomach dropped. I swallowed. "And things are bad."

"Not yet," Connor said.

"But," Murphy began.

"They will be," I said my eyes sliding from his as I turned my head and buried it in Connor's side. I wasn't gonna cry.

"Poppa Joe will be the last here," Connor began.

"And then," Murphy added.

"You'll go," I concluded.

"Aye," Connor agreed. There was a trace of emotion in his voice, but just a hint. He wasn't asking permission. He wasn't going to draw it out. This was how it was. Business.

And beneath the despair that I was feeling a tiny flicker of pride flared. I knew, deep down, I knew that they harbored the same kinds of feelings for me as I did for them. If they hadn't worried about how I was gonna take this decision they would have told me this afternoon, just hit me right between the eyes with it, to hell with how it would affect me. Or worse yet I could have just come home one day to find all their stuff gone, but they didn't.

If they could man up and keep this straight up business, then I could too. I cleared my throat and raised my eyes to Connor's. He was straight faced, every line and muscle in his body relaxed with an air of indifference, but I could see the conflict in his eyes and twisted bitch that I am, it made me feel better. I felt my lips curl up slightly in a trace of a smile and the conflict eased a bit. "When do you hit him?"

Murphy's hand slung over my hip loosened and Connor grinned, opening his mouth to speak.

Of course it was that precise moment when all hell broke loose in the other room.


	3. Chapter 3

The boys were out of bed before I had time to really react, pulling guns out of hiding places I didn't even know they had and creeping silently to the door, meanwhile I was still trying to untangle from the blankets they had both tossed on top of me as they had made their escape.

Out of nowhere Murphy was on top of me, grabbing my wrists and pulling me to my feet, pushing me behind him, putting himself and Connor between me and the door which I'm sure I would have found chivalrous if I hadn't been so scared that I was about to pee my pants.

Connor was counting silently on his fingers as they prepared to open the door when Rocco's voice from the other side of the door called, "Don't fuckin shoot!"

We all froze and he repeated, "Connor, Murphy, don't fucking shoot me!"

My boys met eyes and Murphy dropped into a crouch pulling me along. "What's happenin', Roc?" Connor shouted and then dropped into a crouch as well, pistol ready, eyes on the door, free hand on the knob. Murphy was practically thrumming with energy and adrenaline beside me…and they both looked like they were having the time of their lives.

Fuckin hell, I thought, shaking my head. How the hell could I ever have competed?

"Roc?" Connor called again, then dropped closer to the floor.

"Um," Rocco said from the other side of the door in a very quiet and pathetic voice. "I tripped."

We all looked back and forth at each other for a couple of seconds before I broke the silence. "Say again?"

"I, uh, tripped over something…and fell over…something else."

I covered my mouth, determined not to laugh.

"Come and open the door, Roc," Connor demanded, crabwalking back.

"I can't," came the sad reply from the other room. "I think, I'm, uh, stuck."

I felt really bad about it, but I started laughing. I tried to cover my mouth, but it wasn't helping. I dropped back on my ass, giggling, and I heard another crash from the other room, and a muffled _Shit_ and I suddenly couldn't stop laughing. I couldn't catch my breath and my eyes started tearing up. I was aware of the boys looking at me like I had just lost it, but I couldn't help it.

"Stop laughing and come and help me, Goddammit!" Rocco called again.

"He's fallen," I said, breathless, "and he can't get up." I said breaking into new hysterics. I put my back against the bathroom door and covered my mouth with both of my hands and laughed until my sides and face hurt.

When I came back to my senses, the boys had already cracked the door and were slipping into the dark living room…when they started laughing.

"Fuck you both!" Rocco yelled, "Get me out of here."

By now the boys were practically on the floor rolling and I was under control, more or less, so I pushed myself to my feet, wiping tears from my eyes and padded after them.

It was a fucking sight. It looked like he had probably been headed for the kitchen and caught one foot in the strap of Murphy's bag. Rocco had stumbled for a second then gone ass over teakettle straight into one of the side tables I had next to the couch. His weight had broken it and sent the contents (a couple of beer bottles and an ashtray) all over him. The table top had fallen on him and gotten pinned against one of my bookcases by one of the table legs. With nothing to leverage himself against he was stuck with his uninjured arm and one leg underneath him and the other foot still through Murphy's bag strap, he had only been able to push with his injured hand and he couldn't put much pressure on it so he had only managed to wedge himself tighter against the bookcase.

I felt a wicked grin cross my face and the giggles threatened to erupt again but I could see blood on the bandage covering his stump so I got a grip, headed back into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit.

The boys were still laughing when I returned and tried to extricate Rocco from the carnage. I managed to get him into a sitting position as I dropped to one knee in front of him and started trying to pick cigarette butts from his hair. "Are you okay?" I asked my voice as serious as I could manage with a grin still on my face and the boys laughing like a pair of stoned fucking hyenas behind me.

"I'm fuckin fine," he said, sullenly.

"You're seeping," I said nodding at his hand. "Let me take a look?"

"Sure," he said looking at me, then glancing down and keeping his eyes fixed. "Damn, you've got some legs on you, kid."

Looking down myself, I realized that in my hysteria, I had stumbled out without pulling my pants back on and I felt my cheeks flush. I cleared my throat. "Um, thanks," I mumbled. "Be right back," I said rising, now all too aware that my underwear were snug and the curves of my ass would be clearly visible as I walked away.

Once in the room I heard a smack and I envisioned Connor swatting Rocco on the back of the head. "What the fuck are ye doin lookin?"

I grinned to myself as I stepped into my pants. "She was right fuckin there, man. I couldn't help it. It was a compliment. She said thank you. I wasn't gonna grab her ass or nothing. But," and his voice dropped so I couldn't make out what he said, but it was followed by another head smack.

"Mind you stay on your fucking couch," Murphy added as I heard him head my way. I grinned and shook my head as Murphy's hands took hold of my ass and squeezed. "You do have quite the arse on ye, girl."

"Thank you, too," I said, turning, and pulling his face down to mine. His tongue explored my mouth as his hands gently massaged my southern cheeks and I moaned a little into his mouth, before pulling back, pressing my hands to his chest. "Don't get me started. I have to go check on Rocco," I said, slipping out of his arms and heading for the living room again.

Connor had helped Rocco onto the couch and was sitting on my coffee table across from him and they were talking intensely in hushed tones as I walked in. I paused a few feet away and they stopped. "You need me to wait?"

"Nah, lass," Connor said, rising and coming towards me. "Just hurry on, yeah?" he said wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my forehead.

"Won't be a bit," I said inhaling deeply as I touched his arm.

He turned back to Rocco and pointed two fingers at his eyes then at Rocco. "I'll be fuckin watchin you."

"Stop," I said, swatting him lightly on his hand. "Go lay down. I'll be right back."

Connor walked backwards out of the room, leaving the bedroom door cracked.

"Sorry," Rocco said as I took up Connor's place on the coffee table, folding my legs.

I grinned. "Never apologize to a woman for telling her she has nice legs, Rocco," I said as I took his stumpy hand in mine, set it on my legs, and started to unwrap. "I do appreciate you not grabbing my ass, though," I said meeting his eyes and I saw him flush a little. I suppressed a smile and looked back down at his hand. The wrapping came away easily, but the pad had gotten stuck to the new blood and I had to tug it a little, and I heard him suck in a breath.

"Sorry," I said absently as I looked at the red flesh, crusted black around the edges where it had been charred. "You boys and your appliances," I said, shaking my head. "It's just oozing a little, Roc, I'll hold pressure on it for a bit, if it doesn't stop then I'll stitch it," I said placing a clean bandage pad against it and squeezing slightly.

"Oh, fuck," he said under his breath.

I looked up and he had paled. "I'm sorry," I said.

"S'Okay. Fuck I could use a smoke."

I nodded. "Could use one, too," I said, reaching with my spare hand and grabbing a pack and a lighter. I pulled two cigarettes out of the pack with my teeth and lit them, passing one to Rocco.

"Thanks," he said, dragging deep.

"Least I can do," I said grinning as I dragged on my own.

"For everything, ya know?" he said, his voice strained but his eyes were serious.

I matched his gaze. "Sure," I said, nodding. "It's as much as I can do."

He nodded, leaned forward, and dropped his voice, "They love you, you know that?"

Slowly I nodded. "I know."

"They won't say it."

"I won't either."

"They told you? That we're leaving?"

I nodded again, feeling my eyes sting.

"You're the only thing holding them here." I nodded again, tears spilling silently now. "And you're still not gonna tell em?"

"It'll just make it harder, Roc," I said, smoking, wiping at my damp cheeks with the heel of my hand. "I won't deny it if they initiate it, but it's gonna be bad enough already. I don't want it any worse."

He looked at me like I was an idiot, but he nodded. I supposed I was an idiot, but it made sense to me. I sniffled and looked down at his hand. His stump had stopped oozing. "Looks like you'll live," I said, snuffing out my cigarette and wrapping his finger back up.

"Wipe your face before you go in there, will ya? They'll think I tried to stick my dick in ya."

I laughed a little, unfolding off of the table and heading for the kitchen to splash some water on my face. Finally heading for my room, I looked over at him settling onto the couch. "Night, Roc," I said as I clicked off the lights.

"Night," he replied.

"And…thanks," I said, just outside of my door. I saw him nod in the dark and I stepped into my bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

I closed the door and put my back to it for a second, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

I knew they weren't asleep. They were too deceptively still. I couldn't count the number of times I'd wake up with Murphy's knee in the small of my back, or unable to breathe because Connor had turned and flung an arm out, his bicep neatly covering my nose and mouth. I smiled in the darkness. They were restless, my boys.

I would miss them.

I knew that six or eight months from now something would happen and I'd want to tell them about it and wouldn't be able to. Or my hormones would flare up and I'd want nothing more than to see that flare in Murphy's eyes just before he came or feel Connor's rough padded fingers ghosting over my body and they wouldn't be there. If something bad went down in New York I might not even know about it. Couldn't even go to their funerals.

I felt my soul crack a little at that particular thought and swallowed down the sob that threatened to escape.

Rational, I thought, be rational.

So I stood there, like a freak, for a moment just taking them in. Both of them on my ridiculously small bed. Murphy closest to the wall on his stomach, still in his jeans. They rarely slept in less than their jeans anymore, another concession to the life they lead now.

Murphy. His skin almost shining in the darkness, the long, lean lines of his back exposed. The spot just below the hairline on his neck that if I breathed on it warm and wet enough, he'd shiver and break out in goosebumps. The outline of his face against my pillow, dark shock of hair carelessly tousled.

Connor, on his back, his healthy color more muted as he lay on his back at the edge of the bed. Those stomach muscles of his moving up and down as he breathed. One hand on his chest, the other arm out to the side, almost like he was waiting for me to curl up there.

"Are you gonna stand there all night, lass?"

"Just starin?" Murphy's muffled voice added.

"Like a perv?" I asked.

"Aye," they both replied.

I laughed a little. "Just taking in the scenery," I said untying my pants, yet again, and stepping out of them as I moved to the bed.

"Ye want us to strip down, then? Take in all the scenery, as it were?" Connor offered as I straddled his legs, climbing over him to lay between them.

"Shrubberies?" Murphy added, curling up behind me.

"Towers?" Connor said, taking my hand in his and placing it on his chest.

"Towers. Pfft," I said, snuggling in.

Connor bit my fingers and Murphy pinched my leg. "Ow," I half-laughed, "Ok, sorry."

Connor withdrew his teeth, but not his mouth, laving each of my fingers before kissing them, and Murphy's pinch turned into long strokes of his fingertips up and down the outside of my thigh. My eyes closed and my hips moved instinctively towards Murphy even as Connor pulled me closer to him.

My mouth found Connor's nipple and tongued it mercilessly, adding an occasional nip of my teeth for variety. He tensed under the attention and rolled towards me, now on his side, his hands holding my face and kissing me. Murphy was licking his way up and down my neck while his fingers roamed over my legs, ass, and stomach. I moaned into Connor as Murph's finger dipped into my underwear, sneaking towards my clit. My toes curled in anticipation and when he brushed my nub I bucked against him so hard I heard him hit the wall. I smiled against Connor and tried to pull away to apologize to Murphy, but Connor wasn't having it, he wrapped an arm around my neck and held on, kissing me with so much heat I couldn't breathe for a minute and I sank my nails into his chest and back, rolling my hips towards him, wrapping an ankle around his calf, bringing my clit against his knee, rubbing and mewling.

Murphy, not to be left out, moved his mouth south, licking and kissing a trail under my shirt, down my spine. His fingers ghosted over my hot spot soon followed by his breath and I thought 'Oh, God, yes!' until a tiny rational voice in the back of my head screamed 'NO!' for some reason my lust-muddled brain couldn't understand, until Murphy's lips and tongue made contact with the inked skin of my tattoo and my body convulsed… just enough to throw Connor (who had both hands on me while he teetered precariously close to the edge of the bed) off balance.

I felt him going over and (damn my self-preservation instinct) I tried to get loose of him but he had me pretty tight and our legs were too twisted to pull apart easily. At the last minute Murphy grabbed my hips trying to pull me back, but my weight and Connor's was too much and I felt his hands slide off of me just as I landed, shoulder-first, on Connor's stomach.

His breath whuffed out of him and his arm around me loosened so I tried to get off of him so he could get his wind back. Of course that was about the time that Rocco kicked open the door, causing Murphy to go for his gun aiming at the door that Rocco was coming though his own gun outstretched. I had time to stupidly cover my head with my arms and wonder briefly if I could get my security deposit back if I had patched up bullet holes in the wall. Just then Connor sucked in a breath and snapped everyone back to their senses.

Getting to all fours I crawled over to Connors head as Murphy and Rocco were both putting their pieces away. "You ok?" I asked touching his face lightly.

He coughed a little, sucked in a breath, and wheezed out, "Christ, lass, you weigh a lot."

I balled up my fist and hit him again in the stomach, probably not the nicest thing since I had just fallen on it, but still.

"That's what you get for laughing at me," Rocco said pointing at us with his gun.

"Go fuck yourself, Roc," Connor wheezed, sitting up.

Rocco slunk back into the living room, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Yer bed is too small, girl," Murphy said, taking my hand as I stepped over Connor's outstretched legs. Connor slapped my ass, playfully, with one hand as he scooted over to get to his feet.

"I'm sorry," I said, climbing into bed, again, spooning back against Murphy, giving Connor as much room as I could to settle back in. "Room for me and my two boyfriends to fuck was not on my checklist when I went bed shopping."

"Can't fault you for that, I suppose," Connor said, his voice and color returning as he settled on his back beside me. I moved into position curling against them both, our bodies relaxing into each other.

My eyelids started to get heavy and I could feel sleep tugging at me. "Tomorrow night," Connor said.

"Or the night after, at the latest," Murphy added.

My hand clenched in Connor's, and Murphy's hand slid from my hip searching for my other hand and he squeezed it. "That soon?" I asked, trying to sound calm, but my voice cracked.

"Aye," Murphy whispered against the skin at the back of my neck, kissing me lightly, reassuringly.

"Aye," Connor agreed, his bicep contracting against my cheek as he lifted his hand to stroke my hair.

"Aye," I whispered against his shoulder, closing my eyes. I dropped off soon after that with Murphy's thumb stroking the back of my hand and Connor's heart beating against my palm.

It was the most peaceful night of sleep I have ever had, before or since. But somehow the heat of the twin's bodies surrounding me never touched this sickly cold spot in my belly that told me something was very, very wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

I felt them moving around and disentangling themselves from me before I felt the sun on my face in the morning. I groaned and buried my face in the pillow that reeked of them. Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person? I could hear them rolling Rocco off of the couch and felt a twinge of pity for my downstairs neighbor. I smelled coffee and thought about getting up, but fell back asleep again. Next thing I knew, Murphy's hand was on my shoulder, shaking me gently, "Wake up, girl. We're going."

I shot up in bed, "Right now?"

Murphy grinned at me. "Not _going_ going. Just off to church."

I clapped a hand over my chest. "Fuck, Murphy, don't do that to me."

"Sorry, lass," Connor said from the doorway. "Come do up your deadbolt."

"Aye," I said, wiping my eyes, untangling my legs from the blankets and moving to the door.

"Morning, Roc," I said stumbling out into my living room.

"Oh, Christ," he exclaimed averting his eyes. "You're killing me, kid!"

I was confused for a second until a draft hit my bare legs and I realized that I had wandered out with no pants, again. "Oh, fuck it. I'm still too asleep to be modest," I said crossing the room to the door.

The twins smiled as they followed me.

"We'll probably be out all day," Connor said as he gathered me to him with both arms, kissing my cheek.

"Right," I said, kissing him back as he opened the door.

"We'll stay in touch," Murphy said, kissing my neck as he filed past, his hand at the small of my back. "Let ye know what's goin on."

"Sure," I sighed, squeezing him tightly.

Connor and Murphy stood in the hall, lighting up, looking left and right, as Rocco came past. "Thanks, again," he said, waving his stump at me. I smiled, nodding. "Think about it," he said, his eyes serious.

I met them, nodding more slowly. "Have. Thanks, though."

He nodded back and hugged me. I hugged him back and did him the favor of not reacting when his hand slid a little too low and lingered a little too long to be called friendly. He backed up. "Damn," he said, absently, heading out the door as I felt color come up my face.

"I go in at four. Call me," I said to the three of them as I stood in the half-closed door.

They all nodded and headed down the hall. I watched them go, but turned back in and closed the door before they got to the elevator. I set both deadbolts and my chain and clicked on the TV for sound as I set about cleaning the wreck that was my apartment.

I barely even glanced up when the newscaster started talking about the multiple murder and subsequent shootout in a suburb east of town. A large number of victims dead at the scene, evidence of the assailants injured. Federal agents cooperating with local authorities. I'm not sure when I started crying, but the steady stream of salt water dripping from my face onto my kitchen counter was a big clue.

I had never been a religious person, but I offered up a simple prayer. Nothing fancy. Please keep my boys safe as they do Your will. Give me strength to deal with this the way they needed me to. And God forgive us all for our sins.

With nothing else to say, I crossed myself and headed for my shower.


	6. Chapter 6

It was close to 11 when I turned my key in the door and walked in on a ringing phone.

"Don't hang up. Hello?" I said, fumbling the receiver. "Hello?"

"Aye, girl, m'still here."

"Murphy," I sighed, but his voice was thick. He'd been crying. My blood chilled and my stomach clenched. "Connor?" I croaked, near hysteria.

The response was a soft mewl of pain that stopped my heart and wrenched at my soul. I had never heard Murphy like this, he was heart-broken and I only wanted to touch him. "Murph?" I asked again.

"Lass," came Connor's voice through the line, and I relaxed a bit, tears of relief spilling down my cheeks.

"Oh, God, Connor," I sighed, closing my eyes. Then it hit me, like a bucket of cold water. "Rocco," I said, not asking.

"Aye. We're in rough shape, lass."

"Anything you need, you know that. Talk to me."

He gave me an address and a room number at a hotel on the other side of town. I wrote it down, quickly. "Be there soon. Take care," I said and he hung up without saying goodbye. I dropped to my knees beside my phone and wept. Sobbing and heaving, unable to conjure up any other image in my head, than Rocco wedged in my bookcase the night before.

Rocco was gone.

Rocco was cold.

Rocco was dead.

But my boys were still alive.

My sobs stopped almost immediately.

My boys were alive and they needed me.

"So get your shit together," I said to myself, wiping at my eyes. Galvanized by the sound of my own voice, I got to my feet and started packing up anything they had left behind, loading their duffle bags. I grabbed my own and started loading it with first aid supplies, not wanting to draw anymore attention than I was already going to. Carrying three huge duffle bags was going to be conspicuous enough, but two and a giant first aid kit would really be pushing it. Nothing for it. Just do what I could.

I changed out of my work clothes and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulled on my boots, laced them, loaded the bags onto my shoulders, locked up behind me and tromped to the elevator. I had a buddy from work that lived in the building that let me borrow her car when I needed it, so I stopped by her door. Fed her a story about a cousin in a wreck upstate. She handed over the keys with no fussing and offered to tell Keith my manager the next day that I wouldn't be in. I told her thanks and that if Keith didn't like it, he could fire me. Then I trudged down to the garage.

It had only been about 45 minutes since I talked to Connor as I pulled into the parking lot of the motel. The room was on the first floor at the end of the building and I parked a few doors down. I hauled my first aid duffle out of the car and headed for the door.

I exhaled deeply as I stood in front of the door, ran a hand through my hair, and knocked, heavy enough to be heard, but not heavy enough to be mistaken for pounding. I heard shuffling inside and the unmistakable click-clack of an automatic round being chambered. I took a step back so I would be visible through the peephole and held my hands out to my sides. "It's me," I squeaked.

I could hear voices, but not words, then the lock was drawn and the door opened a crack. I caught a flash of Connor's eye through the opening and started forward, pushing the door out of the way and wrapped my arms around him and I felt the tears start again. He returned my hug and I felt my hair stick to his face as he leaned down into me. He slid a hand underneath the strap of the bag and slid it off of my shoulder as he picked me up by the waist and squeezed. I got my arms around his neck and was reasonably sure I'd never let go.

I heard creaking wood off to my right and glanced that way expecting to see Murphy, but instead saw an older man. Gray hair, long and curly, rising from a chair beside a table where sat a sidearm and a smoking cigar.

"Um," I said stupidly in Connor's ear, but he wasn't letting go.

"Did ye have other bags, child?" he asked in a brogue more pronounced than the boys', a chill in his voice that made me shiver against Connor.

"Yes, sir," I said, reaching into my pocket and taking out my keys. "Three doors down, the-"

"I saw ye pull in, child. I'll find it," and he was gone out the door.

"Lord Almighty, lass. Thought I'd never see ye again," Connor whispered into my hair.

I hugged him tighter and held on until I heard the door open behind me again. The older man dropped the boys' bags on the floor, put my keys on the table, took the gun and the cigar and withdrew silently again.

"How badly are you hurt?" I asked softly.

"Been worse," he said, his arms loosening around me, allowing me to slide to the floor.

"And Murphy?" I asked, looking down, wiping tears from my cheeks.

"Bathroom," he said as I looked up at him, seeing him for the first time. It wasn't pretty. His face was swollen from a hell of a beating, covered in drying blood, his leg wound obviously reopened.

"Oh, Jesus, Connor," I said, tearing up fresh again.

"We're alive," he said, heavily.

"Yea," I squeaked as the bathroom door opened and Murphy emerged, in his boxers, covered in bruises and blood, cradling one hand against his chest. "Oh," I said, pathetically as he looked up at me, his mouth set in an angry line, his eyes drowning in sadness, "baby," I finished as I crossed to him.

He grabbed me almost violently leaning down to put his forehead against my shoulder and wrapped me up so tightly I couldn't breathe for a second. "My fault," he sobbed, his voice angry.

Sweet bleedin' Christ, I thought as I hugged him back. My hand instinctively reaching to stroke his hair as I tried to soothe him. "No, Murph," I whispered to him. "I don't believe that."

"Brought him in," he said, harshly, his voice jagged. "Wouldn't have been there. My fault."

"Shut up," I said, touching his back. "Roc knew what he was signing on for when he started running with Yakavetta's crew when he was a kid. He always knew it could end like this." I had no idea how it had ended, but I knew Rocco had loved Connor and Murphy like his own blood and he wouldn't have wanted them to self-destruct over this, and as Murphy thrummed under my hands, torn apart by more emotions than I could probably count, I worried that was what he was headed towards.

Slowly he loosened his limbs around me and I took his hand softly in mine and led him to a padded bench that sat at the foot of the bed. "Let me look you over," I said, sitting him down. I turned to get my bag and found Connor sitting in the recently emptied chair, gun in hand, looking out the window and chain-smoking.

Jesus, they were strung out. I lugged the bag to my feet beside Murphy. Went to the bathroom and got the ice bucket full of warm water and a washcloth and slowly started cleaning. Starting at his feet, I worked my way up, the warm water sluicing through the hair on his legs, dampening the mats of dried blood enough for me to wipe them away, carefully cleaning the flaps of skin, scraped away by what looked like it had been handcuffs.

Kneeling in front of him, I started on his thighs, my breasts brushing against his knees as he sat, statue-still, staring into space. Moving beside him on the bench, I started on his stomach, gingerly. Rubbing only hard enough to clear away the blood trying to avoid the places where the deep purples and greens told me he had probably cracked a rib.

His chest was not bruised, but a mess of dried blood, where the blood from his mouth had trickled down and seeped through the material of his shirt. I kissed the tattoo over his heart, and still no reaction.

I started down his arms, found more handcuff scrapes, worse on the side with the dislocated and possibly broken thumb. "All I can do with this is splint it," I said, my voice loud in the silent room. Murphy didn't respond so I turned to Connor, "but he needs to have it looked at."

"Tomorrow," Connor agreed, looking at me briefly before returning his gaze to the parking lot. "Someone'll see to it," he trailed off.

I nodded, washing Murphy's blood-slicked hands, careful of his thumb, which I immobilized and wrapped, unsure what else I could do for it.

I moved to his face next. A mass of bruises marring his fair skin. I wiped gently, before going in with my alcohol and butterfly stitches, disinfecting all the cuts and scrapes and covering them in antiseptic before applying bandages where they were needed.

I stood up, pulled a bottle of painkillers from my bag, handed him two and got up to rinse out the bucket and get a new washcloth. I was just filling a glass for him when he came up behind me and met my eyes in the vanity mirror, his hands sliding around my waist, resting on my belly. "Thank you," he said to my reflection, a hint of spark in his eyes and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anything for you," I said, touching his hands. He kissed my cheek, took the glass from me, swallowed the pills and sat in the middle of the bed, his back against the headboard.


	7. Chapter 7

"Connor," I called as I settled onto my knees again. He snuffed out his cigarette, put his gun where Murphy could reach it and sat down in front of me. "Pants off," I said, looking up at him. He gave me a grin, a shadow of his normal grin, but encouraging. "I've gotta see your leg."

"Aye," he said, standing and undoing his button and zipper, looking down at me, kneeling in front of him.

"Don't get any ideas," I said, smiling. "This is purely medical."

"Aye," Murphy echoed from the bed. His eyebrow raised.

"See?" I said as his jeans hit the floor. "Oh, bloody fuck, Connor," I breathed as I saw the soaked through bandages as he sat back down. I grabbed a pair of scissors and made short work of the wrappings. I disinfected all around the burn and the bullethole that had ripped open again but seemed to have stopped oozing. Leaning over his knees, I replaced the dressing, placing the last strip of tape, I backed off, brushing my elbow against his very obvious erection. I glanced up at him a sideways grin on my face.

"Can't help it, lass. Yer hands are soft, yer tits are on my knees and ye scrunch up yer face so when yer concentratin'."

"Later," I said, grinning. "I'm working," I finished, standing up before settling in to sit next to him. His arms were bruised, but not as bloody as Murphy's, and his muscles twitched under my hands as I worked, his body tensing, his breathing changing. I got two swipes at his face with the washcloth before he grabbed my hips and swung my leg over his, neatly planting me on his lap.

"Ye've got too many clothes on, lass," he said his hands creeping under my shirt and up my back. I shivered as my blood rushed south of my waist.

"Jesus, Connor," I breathed, leaning into him. "This isn't easy."

"No," he asked, pulling me down hard onto his lap, "hard, then, is it?" he whispered against my neck.

"Just let me finish this, Connor," I said as he ground me down onto him and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to be naked and squirming.

"Aye," he said, holding my hips and sliding me back and forth over his lap. Just enough friction that I was now soaked and my rational mind was starting to flounder. "Go ahead, finish," he said, his hands under my shirt again.

"Stop," I panted, a cotton ball soaked in alcohol in my hand, "moving."

"Alright," he agreed, and he did. His thumbs on the lower curves on my breasts, his fingers against my ribs and his cock pulsing maddeningly against my crotch.

A shiver ran through my body as I realized that I couldn't finish cleaning him up anymore than I could get up and walk out of the room. My hormones had beaten my reasoning back into submission again, as it often did where the twins were involved, and more to the point, I needed this. The realization that they were leaving was bad enough, but with Rocco…I needed confirmation that they were ok.

"Aw," I growled, "Fuck it, you're fine," as I pulled my shirt over my head in a whipping motion and Connor buried his face between my breasts, lapping, biting and sucking. I got my knees under his armpits and crossed my ankles behind him back and used my thigh muscles to rub back and forth as I tangled my fingers in his hair. He worked one of my bra cups down and found my nipple with his mouth. I hissed through my teeth as he bit down very close to painfully and his face stubble burned my sensitive skin.

I uncrossed my ankles and slid down his body until I was back on my knees. Placing insistent hands on the back of his knees, I managed to coax him to the edge of the bench and worked his shorts down to half-mast. His hands clenched and unclenched beside his legs as I breathed hot and wet across the tops of his thighs, inching closer to his cock, unable to resist a glance up his glorious body to see the anticipation written on his face. I smiled and winked as I relaxed my jaw and neck and deep throated him eliciting a half-snarl, half-growl. Slowly I drew my mouth back, circling my thumb and index finger around the base of his shaft, adding a finger to each inch that I backed my mouth off of. Once off completely, I lapped and tongued around the head of his cock before plunging my mouth back on removing one finger at a time as I moved forward.

I felt his thighs clench beneath me as I backed off again, keeping just the head of his cock between my lips, licking and suckling at it with my tongue as I slowly stroked my fist up and down his length.

He was trying very hard to resist thrusting into my mouth, but his head was almost on the bed he had arched his back so far. "Weeping Jesus on the Cross, lass," he breathed, burying his hands in my hair.

It was about then that I heard the bed squeak and glancing sideways into the mirror, I could see Murphy adjusting himself and leaning over to see what I was doing exactly.

That was what I had been waiting for. Some sign of life from Murph, and a weight lifted from my heart.

My tongue took one more turn around Connor's cock before I pulled back entirely and stood up. "Lass?" Connor said in one of the saddest voices I've ever heard from him, but I had locked eyes with Murphy and I could see that fire in them trying to ignite and fuck if I wasn't gonna do all I could to stoke that flame.

"Wait your turn," I said, my eyes never leaving Murphy's, as I crawled on all fours past Connor, onto the bed, closing on Murphy.

"Was my turn," Connor said under his breath.

"Was," Murphy said as I got closer, "past tense," he finished as he grabbed my face and pulled me to him, kissing me like he was planning to digest me. His tongue was tickling my molars and his hands tangled in my hair. He was fierce. He was Murphy, I thought. I would have sighed in relief but I couldn't catch my breath.

"Was, my ass," I could hear Connor exclaim behind me, as he shucked his shorts and started unlacing my boots.

Murphy finally pulled back, both of us breathing hard. "Whatever that was you were doing to Connor, I'm pretty sure you've never done that to me."

"How would you know?" I panted. "You couldn't see."

He smiled. A real Murph smile. "Show me?"

"Fuckin laces," Connor cursed from the area of my feet as Murphy stripped. I heard my boots hit the wall as Connor chunked them and then peeled off my socks.

I dropped to my elbows between Murphy's outstretched legs, as Connor fumbled with my jeans. Repeating my blow job technique on Murphy elicited essentially the same reaction only he yelled, "Sweet Mary, Mother of God."

It was really difficult to keep up a rhythm with Connor tugging on my jeans and panties, but, I don't think Murphy minded. In fact before too long his hands were insistent on the back of my head, speeding my mouth.

I had almost lost track of what Connor was doing until I felt his shoulders brush the inside of my calves as he slid beneath me. The thought, he can't possibly be about to, got about halfway through my mind before Connor grabbed my knees and slid them down his sides until my clit was lined up nicely with his mouth.

When his tongue made contact, I screamed around Murphy's cock and the vibration nearly sent him over the edge. I had to pull back for a second to catch my breath. Connor set up his own rhythm and it was fantastic and I felt my thighs tremble a little with the anticipation of release, but I wasn't there yet, so I refocused my attention on Murphy whose hands were still insistent against my skull.

I had just gotten back into my own technique and was enjoying the moans from Murphy when Connor slid a finger into my more than slick opening and my head rocked back, popping Murphy's cock out of my mouth again as I screamed. I felt more than heard Connor say, "Aye, lass," as I tried to return my mouth to Murphy. My lips had barely wrapped around his length when Connor introduced his teeth into the equation and I screamed again. My hands spasmed and I thought it safer to take them away from Murphy's member, but they only got to his thighs before Connor waggled his fingers inside of me and my nails sank in and I screamed again. If he didn't stop soon…

Then he nipped at my clit at the same time that he waggled his finger and it pushed me over the edge. I cried out his name, my feet drumming against the bed, as I spasmed around his finger and just as I was coming down, he moved again and I came again, screaming. My arms gave out as my fingers loosened in Murphy's flesh. Then he moved again and I came a third time, weeping, out of breath. "Connor, for fuck's sake," Murphy said, grumpily. I slumped forward onto his chest out of Connor's reach, trying to catch my breath.

"You gotta stop," I said, unable to stop smiling, "you're killing me." I was looking up at Murphy as I twitched against him. "Just," I sighed, "just give me a second." Connor slid out from under me and ran his hands over my legs, tracing the lines of my muscles with his fingertips. Slowly, I started to respond again, moving my body to meet his, Murphy tilted my face up to meet his mouth. His kiss was slow and sensual, his fingers light on my throat's pulse, and I could feel my body coming to for the second round…or the fourth round, depending on how you counted.


	8. Chapter 8

Slowly, I kissed my way down Murphy's body, tracking his happy trail with my tongue as Connor knelt behind me, his hands light on my hips, his finger tracing over my skin and I could feel him poised just outside my entrance. I closed my lips around Murphy's shaft and started to move back and forth with my whole body, trying to encourage Connor to get on with it.

Murphy's fingers slid down my back to my bra strap and released the clasp with a careless flick of the wrist, freeing my breasts and Murphy licked his fingers and found my nipples. Tweaking, pinching, and massaging. I moaned around him.

Connor's mouth moved down my back, his lips soft against my skin, kissing gently. I moved again and arched my back more, opening myself to him. But he only continued his torturously soft touches.

Murphy was moaning again as my tongue wound around his shaft, whimpering with need. I pulled all the way out and pressed hard against Connor. "Connor," I whimpered, over my shoulder, "please."

"Only had to ask, lass," he said, a grin on his face as he slid slowly into me.

I groaned throatily as he entered to the hilt and held still. I could hear the strain in his voice when he spoke, "Go on, lass. Get him in your mouth."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Not if your gonna fuck with us again."

"Just relax and focus on me, girl. Loosen up your legs, let him move ye." Murphy said from in front of me.

I turned my eyebrow on Murphy. "Sounds like you know what you're talking about."

"Not our first rodeo, lass," Connor grated out behind me. "But I can't hold still much longer."

I trusted them completely. It wasn't even a concern and truthfully, I was curious to see how this was gonna work. I focused on relaxing my hips and leg muscles, essentially giving control of my body over to Connor as I turned my conscious thought processes back to Murphy.

My mouth was just around the head of Murphy's cock, when Connor leaned forward, pressing my mouth down on Murphy. Murphy sighed in pleasure, and Connor pulled back so only the tip of his own penis was inside me. Then his grip on my hips doubled and he pulled me back onto him fully, taking Murphy nearly out of my mouth completely.

I had essentially become one of those giant tree saws the lumberjacks used to use when they'd saw in pairs. Push and pull, pull and push. Crude, but effective…for all of us.

Connor gave me a few strokes to get used to the idea before he started rocking for real. Hard and fast back against him, slower forward onto Murphy, drawing out his withdrawl deliciously. I found myself moaning along with them, much to Murphy's delight.

"Murph?" Connor asked.

"Aye," Murphy sighed.

"Ye good?"

"Bit faster," he moaned and Connor complied, speeding the whole process a bit and Murphy writhed under me. "Aye."

I was loving this and Connor was getting more and more aggressive, even snaking a hand around my hip to tease my clit and I whimpered, causing Murphy to suck in a pleased breath.

"Faster, Connor," Murphy moaned and Connor responded, groaning himself now as he picked up the pace, as Murphy's whole body tensed beneath me, and I heard a strangled moan escape him.

"Murph," Connor moaned through clenched teeth, "I gotta-"

"Take her, take her," Murphy said, his eyes closed.

Connor grabbed and pulled back hard on my hips, yanking me off of Murphy completely and pounding into me mercilessly. The frantic pace had me beginning to twitch already when Murphy slid forward, his mouth meeting mine desperately, one hand on my nipple, the other on my clit. I nearly howled in pleasure, my cries of uncontrolled joy muffled by Murphy's mouth on my own. I could feel Connor's body tensing up behind me. "Get off 'er, Murph. Wanta hear it."

Murphy reluctantly withdrew his mouth but not his hands and I started whimpering. I was weak, it felt so good and I could feel the orgasm start and I didn't keep it to myself. The sound started deep in my chest and gradually rolled up my throat, starting as a moan then rising to a scream, then devolving into a cry of anguish as the pleasure started to fade, until Connor slapped a hand hard onto my bare ass and I started all over again. "Aye, lass," he said, smacking me again, "once more. Come for me once more," he demanded as on his last stroke, he tilted his hips, increasing his angle, and I came again, my whole body shivering as he unloaded into me with that final hard thrust that sent me forward onto Murphy as Connor collapsed behind me.

Murphy gave me barely a second to catch my breath before he took hold of my, by now useless, legs and flipped me onto my back, settling one knee over his shoulder and the other pressed against his chest. Pressing forward, he nearly folded me in half and slid into my still quivering core, already damp with my own slick and his brother's seed. His pace was rapid, nearing climax himself and every movement brought more cries from my mouth until my throat hurt so bad, I couldn't make any more sounds.

Desperate to get my hands on Murphy, I reached for him, but couldn't quite reach. I kept trying until Connor, loose-limbed and relaxed, slid around me, his chest against the top of my head and his hair brushing my shoulder as he kissed and nibbled at my ear and throat, and he grasped my searching fingers and held them tightly. My eyes locked on Murphy's and I saw the sadness pushed aside, not gone, who knew if it ever would be, but absent in the intensity of the moment. The fire was back and I realized they had probably needed this as much as I had. I watched as his pupils dilated, and with a final, brutal thrust and a cry he came inside me, froze for a second then rolled to one side.

I had no control left in any of the muscles in my body and I laid there in a wobbly mess, still twitching as I tried to get my breathing under control and will my heart back into a rhythm not consistent with cardiac arrest. "Christ, Murphy," I whispered not sure if anyone could hear it but me.

Connor released my hands and ran his hand down my arm, quickly over my breasts and around my throat, slick with sweat, his fingers glided, then over my belly, then back. I smiled, weakly, and groaned low in my throat, "Connor."

I felt the wicked grin on his face as he kissed my cheek before I felt him get up off of the bed, but I didn't have quite enough energy to turn my head and watch him. The lights went out and a fuzzy blanket was thrown over Murphy and me. I heard the ratchet of an automatic as Connor crawled in under the blanket beside me. He curled under one of my outstretched arms and for a fleeting moment I was glad I had shaved my pits before work. His face settled against my breast and he rested a hand on my stomach.

Slowly Murphy came back to himself and responded to the movement on the bed and laid his head on my belly, one arm thrown over my thighs, his hand resting on my opposite hip.

Our bodies, slick with sweat and drained, moved against each other easily. Our limbs tangled in the dark, comfortable. Relaxed.

My hands settled on their heads, running my fingers lightly through their sweaty hair as their breath chilled the perspiration still lingering on my skin.

"So," I said, my voice a croaky whisper. I cleared my throat and started again. "Who was the old guy?"


End file.
